


will i like you better (if we sleep together)

by istajmaal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, F/F, Infidelity, Other, Strap-Ons, and a little daddy kink, by a pool, gender-something, louis cheats on nick with harry, maybe they just want to fuck without handing in an essay on their gender identities oKAY, not a cis swap, they both have vaginas that doesn't mean they're cis, with a strapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/pseuds/istajmaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the l word au. louis fucks harry by the pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	will i like you better (if we sleep together)

**Author's Note:**

> [remember when shane fucked cherie jaffe by the pool. wow.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxPt9TP33Lo)  
>     
> in addition to what's mentioned in the tags, **warnings!!!** for minimally negotiated D/s, mentions of impact play, and implied subspace (off-screen). also, did i mention there is INFIDELITY? things are all pretty cute and cozy for harry and louis but if the idea of louis cheating at all hurts you... consider yourself warned.
> 
> title is from [sleep together](www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1Ad78q5yVk) by garbage

There are at least five reasons Louis shouldn't be standing outside the gate to Harry Styles’s beach rental at one in the morning.

The first is that lurking outside hoping to get laid isn’t something Louis _does_. She’s never had a problem with the strategy of letting the things she wants come to her. People have told her that her blasé attitude is part of why so many girls (and bois, and lately Harry Styles more than any of them) drop their pants at the sight of her. Personally, she’s more inclined to credit her soft grunge style and penchant for jeans that show off her ass, but she’ll admit that she’s never put much more than half an hour’s effort into pursuing a sexual partner, and the drive out here alone took at least that long. It’s been another fifteen minutes since she started ringing the bell, and Harry still hasn’t answered, what the _fuck_.

The second is that it’s pretty damn cold out for March in Los Angeles. In any discussion of things Louis shouldn’t have done, moving to California without a jacket should really be up there on the list. Sure, LA isn’t London (that is, in fact, most of the reason why Louis moved here), but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get chilly. Louis isn’t one for dreaming of what-might-have-beens in general, but there are few things Louis is more nostalgic for than her fur-lined denim jacket, currently sitting in her mother’s basement in Yorkshire.

The third reason is Nick. Maybe all the reasons should be Nick. Apparently that’s how it's supposed to be, when you've been dating somebody for a while. They’re supposed to be the reason you do a lot of things. It’s never been that way with Louis. Not that Nick’s done anything wrong, as Louis has told her a thousand times or more—it’s just not in Louis’s nature to stick around after a fuck. Considering how many times she’s shouted herself hoarse in non-orgasmic situations in the six months she’s been with Nick, she’s given to thinking she should have trusted that instinct.

The fourth reason is that Louis has already fucked Harry Styles. Multiple times. Eleven, to be exact. The first time was in the dressing room in the X Factor studio after Harry’s guest performance, when Louis discovered she enjoyed wrecking their hair even more than she’d enjoyed their flirty touches while she’d done it up. Then there were two times in a storage closet while Harry was supposed to be mentoring the contestants. Four times in Harry’s Ford Capri, parked outside Louis’s salon. Three times in the huge white bed of Harry’s penthouse suite, once for six hours almost without a break, when Louis learned that Harry had more than a passing interest in having their hair pulled (not to mention… other things). Once in the bathroom at an award show Louis did Harry’s hair for. Louis doesn’t do repeat fucks, generally, especially when they’re clients, _especially_ when those clients are the rising celebrity type, but Harry Styles is the kind of person who offers to pay their hairdresser for fixing their hair after they fuck in a public toilet, not the kind who would go around begging Louis not to fuck anybody else. It’s really, really easy to keep fucking Harry, easy like it’s never been for Louis. Especially now that she knows their safeword. (Harry’s strong arms and dimples and their soft little whines when Louis pins their hands over their head are decent bonuses.)

The fifth reason is that Louis should be inside already, but she forgot her phone at Nick’s. She’d told Harry earlier that she might drop by—that was exactly the reason Louis had to flee Nick’s in the first place—but Louis’s not exactly known for keeping dates. Harry might not be expecting her at all. If Louis shifts a little uncomfortably with that thought in mind, it’s probably just because of the cold.

Or the leather harness that’s been digging a little into her thigh for the past forty-five minutes. It could be that.

Louis kicks at the gate and swears as her toe starts throbbing. _Cast iron gates_. Louis has never gone through anywhere near this much trouble to get pussy in her _life_. She presses the buzzer three more times in quick succession and tries to readjust the harness. She tells herself that this time, if Harry doesn’t answer, she’ll leave. She’ll sneak back into Nick’s, get her phone, and scroll through the contacts until she finds someone whose couch she hasn’t asked to crash on in at least a few months. It’s what she’s going to end up doing either way. There’s a chance Nick might even forgive her in the morning, if she doesn’t fuck Harry again.

A few minutes after Louis should have given up and gone, she presses the buzzer button once more. This time, miraculously, there’s a click and a buzz. The gate swings open easily this time, in spite of its weight. Louis adjusts the thick plastic against her leg as she makes her way up the footpath, leaving her car outside.

All thoughts of sneaking back into Nick’s leave Louis’s head when sees Harry leaning against the doorway, wearing a robe made of thin embroidered silk that stops a few inches above their knees. Louis stops just short of the steps and doesn’t stop herself from staring at the smooth and (Louis knows) firm curve of Harry’s calves, the dip of their silk-clad waist in perfect relief as they pull the robe around themself tightly, the soft swell of their breasts interrupted by their pebbled nipples.

"Oops,” Harry says with a grin. They cock their head to the side as they regard Louis, stopped on their stoop. “Told you to call if you came. Did you lose my number?” Harry always speaks maddeningly slowly, like they’ve got all the time in the world, like Louis’s pussy isn’t soaking through her pants at the sight of them like this, half a breath away from naked. “Or is stalker chic the new look this season?”

"Hi," Louis says. Other days, she’s glad to indulge Harry in this kind of banter. As it is, she tugs open the bottom few buttons of her denim vest to give Harry a clear view of her tanned torso and the line of the harness on her hips, just above her black jeans.

Harry uncrosses their arms, and the robe falls open a little, exposing a sliver of the pale skin of their stomach, a hint more of cleavage, their upper thighs. Harry’s naked under the robe, of _course_ they are. “I was just going to go for a swim,” Harry says. Louis swallows as her eyes land on the neat patch of hair between Harry’s legs, their pussy lips just barely visible from this distance. “Join me?”

Louis nods. Harry comes down the steps, assaulting Louis with the scent of expensive soap and exotic flowers and just a hint of tacky sweat, and takes her hand for just a moment, pulling her off to the patio. They drop Louis’s hand and shuck the robe off into the grass halfway there, and Louis knows they know they won’t be getting in the pool. Harry is a fucking _vision_ , the line of their body mesmerizing, from their toned arms scrawled over with tattoos they insist don't mean anything special, to their long, lightly freckled back, to their pert ass swaying like some kind of hypnotic stopwatch, dissolving all of Louis’s thoughts other than _touch, touch now_.

The whole patio is illuminated with the bright blue light emanating from the huge pool. Harry stops just short of one of the big white pool chairs, crosses their arms just under their creamy, upturned breasts, and smiles knowingly. “So," they say, giving Louis a slow once-over where she’s stopped a pace or two behind, eyes settling on the obvious bulge in Louis’s jeans. Louis’s lips part as her eyes drag over the line of soft hair down Harry’s belly to her pussy. Louis has lost track of how many times she’s licked along that line, but it’s not enough. (With Harry, it’s never enough.) Harry tucks a curl behind their ear. “What brings you—“

Louis takes a step forward and grabs Harry’s wrist. Harry’s sentence dies on their lips.

They’re close enough that their breasts touch through the rough denim of Louis’s vest. Harry’s nostrils flare. They’re taller than Louis, by a few inches, but when they lean into her touch, it feels like they’re trying to make themself smaller, to fit into the spaces Louis leaves. Louis squeezes their wrist, hard enough for Harry to inhale sharply, then lets go and takes a fraction of a step back. Harry’s body sways trying to follow her. Louis raises her eyebrows. Harry catches Louis’s eye, bites their lip, and nods.

“Hoped you’d come,” Harry says, slightly breathless.

Louis grabs hold of the dildo in her pants and takes another half-step back. “On your knees,” she says. She hopes Harry won’t notice her voice shake.

Harry’s eyes flit downward to their feet, even as their lips curl into a slight smile. “Yes, Daddy.”

_Jesus_. Is it any wonder Louis keeps coming back for more of Harry, when they keep calling her… _that_? Harry is two years younger than Louis, four inches taller, and no few tens of thousands of dollars richer, but as they sink to their knees gracefully, clasp their hands behind their back, and look up at Louis through mascara-heavy lashes, it feels like—like the exact opposite of the way Louis expects, like the exact opposite of porn, not ridiculous or overdone, but… huge, and subtle, but _important_. Harry gets on their knees so easily, like there’s no doubt in their mind that Louis isn’t going to fuck this up, calls her _Daddy_ like there’s no doubt in their mind that Louis wants it, and she _does_.

“Good.” Louis swallows, adjusts the stiff plastic in her pants, then tilts Harry’s chin up with just the tips of her fingers. Harry blinks languidly, their smile a little faded—or, more accurately, overtaken by hunger as they keep eyeing Louis’s bulge.

Louis smirks. She, too, knows by now that she’s not going to fuck this up. “Spread your legs for me.”

Harry complies immediately, shuffling their knees over the floral pattern of the poolside tiles to make a wide _v_ with their thighs. Even in the low blueish light of the patio, Louis can see how wet they are already, the folds of their pussy glistening as if they’d been playing with themself before Louis got here. The thought makes her clench, a rush of arousal dripping down into her briefs.

“Were you waiting long, baby?” Louis touches Harry’s cheek. They adjust their posture, squaring their shoulders and spreading their knees impossibly wider.

“Too long,” Harry says with a sigh, more wistful than petulant. Louis runs a knuckle down the length of their neck and they throw back their head, biting down a whimper.

“Sitting here all by yourself.” Louis shoves her jeans and briefs down around her thighs and takes the long silicone dildo into her hand. The way Harry licks their lips has already more than justified Louis’s decision to pack. She kicks off her jeans and stands naked in front of Harry, but for the harness and her open denim vest. “What’d you do to pass the time, baby?” Louis fits the dildo into the o-ring of the harness and sighs as she wraps a hand around it erect in front of her. Harry is practically panting, looking beyond words already, clutching at their own thighs. “Did you touch yourself?” Louis asks. Harry nods, biting their lip as they watch Louis stroke her hand over the purple dildo. “Show me,” she says, then shivers as she jerks the dildo back so that it rubs against her clit.

One of Harry’s hands immediately grabs at their breast, squeezing hard and pinching a nipple while their other hand goes between their legs. They hunch forward a little as they run their fingers along their slick slit, then tilt their head back up again to face Louis as they undulate their hips and move two fingers in slow circles around their clit. Their eyes dart from Louis’s eyes to her hand on her cock and whimper a little.

“So greedy.” Louis shakes her head, but can’t make herself sound disappointed. She takes a step closer and the tip of the silicone cock bumps against Harry’s cheek. Harry moans, open-mouthed, their lips forming a perfect _o_ that it would be so, _so_ easy for Louis to slip into. Harry nuzzles their cheek against the dildo, keeping their eyes up on Louis, who swallows. “Think you deserve Daddy’s special present, baby?”

“Please,” Harry says, high-pitched and earnest. Their shoulders start to shake as their fingers run down their wet slit to their opening and back to their clit and they twist their nipple so hard Louis’s own twinges in sympathy. “ _Please_ , Daddy.”

If there were ever even the tiniest chance Louis actually wouldn’t fuck them, it disappears with how Harry’s voice goes rough and needy on the word _daddy_. Louis takes her hand off the plastic dick. “Get it wet,” she says, and before she even finishes, Harry is humming, grasping it with their two big hands, and laving their tongue over the head.

“Hands behind your back,” Louis says sharply, and Harry complies quickly, closing their eyes and shuffling forward on their knees in order to get more of the dildo into their mouth. They’re good at this, Louis knows, because they get three-quarters of the way down before pulling off for a moment to breathe, leaving a smudge of red lipstick down the shaft. What really gets Louis off, though, isn’t the dull pressure on her pussy or the way Harry’s nose brushes her pubic hair as they work their way back down the dildo, covering every inch of it with saliva. It’s how fucking _eager_ Harry is for it, the way they push themself down onto the cock so far they can’t breathe—and how that doesn’t make them pull off, how they exhale harshly and whimper so close to Louis’s pussy, their tongue sliding along the underside of the dildo so that the base shifts _just so_ against Louis’s clit, their hands still clasped obediently behind their back. The slightest movement of Louis’s hips could have them gagging, and what’s more, Louis thinks that’s what they might _want_.

Harry inhales deeply, shoulders shaking, and Louis doesn’t even mean to, she _swears_ her hips just jerk forward on their own, fucking even further into Harry’s mouth. Harry sputters and for a second Louis’s shoulders seize up, but then Harry pulls off the dildo with a gasp, blinking furiously. “Fuck me,” they say, voice sounding _wrecked_ , and they mouth at the side of the spit-slick purple dick, “god, _please_ , Lou, I—“

“Shh,” Louis says, taking Harry’s chin in her hand and wiping at the spit and smudged lipstick at the corner of their mouth while Harry trembles beneath her. “Only need to ask, baby.”

“Fuck me,” Harry says, muffled against Louis’s thigh. They unclasp their hands and rake them along the backs of Louis’s thighs. “ _Fuck_ ,” they mutter as Louis sinks her fingers into their thick curls, their hands shaking as they scrabble for a hold on Louis’s ass, “fuck me, fuck me _please_.”

Louis’s read things about this kind of sex they’ve been having. She did her research after the third time they’d fucked, when Harry had begged her to keep going after Louis had slapped their ass harder than she’d ever slapped anyone before. Her research might have been porn, mostly, but it’s made her vaguely aware of the persona she assumes when Harry gets on their knees for her. She thinks of her role as keeping herself aloft, so that Harry can go under. She’s not entirely sure where Harry goes, but given how hard it makes both of them come, she’s happy to help them get there.

That part of herself comes crashing down to earth as she sinks to her knees across from Harry. Harry throws themself at her, tangling their fingers in her hair with one hand and practically tearing Louis’s vest off with the other. They toss it over their shoulder into the pool, tug Louis closer to them, and Louis gasps almost apologetically. She feels like she’s drowning in this already, like she’s just short of strong enough to keep herself up for Harry. They don’t seem to mind, though. For what feels like a few minutes (but is probably more like a few seconds), they rest their foreheads together, their hands roaming each other’s bodies, breathing each other’s breath without quite kissing, Louis’s fingers settling hard against Harry’s ass.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers, once more, voice ragged, and this time Louis complies, surging forward with a kiss.

Pushing Harry down and sliding her hand down to their clit is anything but unfamiliar at this point, but what comes next makes her breath hitch just the same as Harry’s does, the slide of the first inch of plastic dick inside Harry, taking both of them by surprise, ridiculously. Louis can’t _feel_ it, of course (except maybe she can, maybe Harry’s clenching shifts the dildo just enough that Louis can feel it move minutely against the core of her), but she’s nevertheless dumbstruck by the sight of the purple dick, still slick with Harry’s spit, sinking into them—and that’s not to mention the way Harry goes _mad_ with it, clawing at Louis’s neck and whimpering nonsense words. The blue glow of the water a few inches behind Harry’s head makes the whole thing feel otherworldly, like they’re a little bit more than real.

Louis pauses an inch or so in and rubs over Harry’s clit with her thumb. “Good?” she asks, her voice feeling far away, and Harry hisses, nods. Louis pulls out most of the way, then pushes back in farther, making Harry roll their head back and moan, spreading their legs out wantonly.

“ _Fuck_.” Harry rocks their hips up from the tiles and links an arm behind Louis’s neck, pulling her closer to them and breathing hard. Louis fucks the rest of the way into them and they clench their hands into fists in her hair. _Fuck_ is right _._ Groin pressed flush against Harry’s full pussy, Louis imagines she can feel Harry’s body thrumming around her, but not the way she’s felt so often with her fingers. It’s like she’s feeling Harry not with her body, but with something impossibly _more_ than that, like Harry isn’t just the heaving breasts and sweat-tacky skin beneath her, the long legs wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer, but like they’re on some higher plane that Louis can chase them to, or try, with the rabbiting of her hips against theirs. The pressure on her clit builds as Louis doubles over Harry, kissing them with a clash of teeth, gasping into their slackened mouth, but she barely feels anything but the phantom sense of Harry’s slick walls around her, swallowing her whole.

“Fucking perfect for me,” Louis whispers, barely aware of the words as she brushes her lips over the underside of Harry’s jaw and digs her fingers into their hips so she can fuck them even harder, “wet and open and mine.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry shouts, again, startling Louis into a fierce thrust with the sound. Harry keens at that, fucking herself right back up against Louis, “right—fuck, Daddy, _there, fuck.”_ They scrabble behind themself for something to hold onto, splashing their hands into the water before clutching at the edge of the pool while Louis’s stomach backflips into her throat. She wants to suck bruises into Harry’s sinful collarbones, thrown into delicious relief by the light emanating from the water, but instead she drives into Harry over and over again at the same angle while Harry’s breasts sway with the beat, their moans growing louder and louder, echoing across the surface of the pool water, over the immaculately manicured hedges, maybe even reaching the ocean.

When Harry comes, Louis can feel it with her whole body: Harry’s torso arching against hers, their nails clawing marks into her back, their heels digging into the backs of Louis’s thighs like they might find purchase. Harry shouts and sobs a little, without tears, as Louis slows inside her. Louis’s never been able to come from just the pressure of the strap-on on her clit, and this time is no exception, except—except maybe it is, because Louis might not have come but as Harry melts bonelessly onto the cool, wet tiles, she thinks she may never have felt so satisfied in her entire life.

This is the point at which Louis should—well, at which Louis usually would leave, after she pulls out of Harry and Harry closes their eyes happily, but. Well. Harry’s really fucking pretty like this, is the thing, smiling against the tiles with their hair mussed and their inner thighs wet with come. Louis’s never been one to scamper at the sight of someone gorgeous and freshly-fucked underneath her—at least, not until they asked her to stay. Plus, even if she wouldn’t be leaving Harry with a spanked-red arse like before, the internet says she really shouldn’t leave Harry alone right after they’ve been vulnerable like this, and Louis has always put a lot of faith in technology.

It turns out that Harry might not be feeling so vulnerable after all, Louis learns when they clamber to their knees and start sucking on Louis’s purple cock, covered in their own wetness. But, well, Louis’s not going to leave just _then_ , is she? Or when Harry pulls off the harness and drags Louis into the pool, wrapping their legs around her waist and kissing her hard while Louis scratches marks all across their back. After a while, Harry hoists Louis up out of the pool with their strong arms and straps the dick back on, teasing Louis by rocking their hips back and forth with the dildo between their legs. They slide Louis’s cock along their pussy without letting it enter, so that the base of the dildo rubs against Louis just short of perfectly. When Harry rides the dildo, splattering both of them with little water droplets as they throw their head back and moan themself through to another orgasm, Louis for a mad moment considers never leaving, just letting Harry use her to bring themself off over and over again, keeping her on the delicious edge of not quite not-quite coming. Harry’s both rich and strange enough that Louis figures it could happen.

Then Harry drags Louis onto a pool chair, undoes the harness, and settles their head between Louis’s legs, just breathing lightly against her pussy and staring up at her with big eyes until Louis threads her fingers through their hair and holds their head down hard against her pussy. Harry eats her out like she’s starving for it, lips and tongue and tiny, perfect nips of teeth that make Louis feel like she’s being turned inside out. She comes so hard her arms shake for a good minute afterwards. Harry hums and keeps nuzzling their nose along Louis’s slit until she pulls their head away and Harry crawls up to settle their head against Louis’s chest, kissing the side of her breast.

There’s _really_ no reason for Louis to stay after that, except. Well. Except for the easy weight of Harry’s head against her chest, the warmth of their breasts pressed flush against her torso. Except for how Harry keeps dragging their fingers through the tangles in Louis’s wet hair and after a while says, softly, _stay_.

Louis’s phone will still be at Nick’s in the morning. Or the afternoon. Nick might throw all of Louis’s stuff onto the curb if she doesn’t come back by tomorrow evening, but it’s not like that hasn’t happened before. At least this time Louis thinks she knows where she might go.

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to ren for beta-ing, and to shane and cherie jaffe for fucking by that pool. [remember that?](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxPt9TP33Lo) wOw!!!!! if you wanna talk about it (or, i guess, anything else), [tumblr](socomicallygay.tumblr.com)


End file.
